The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1887-01-05
WINSTON, N. c., JANUARY 8, 1887.

uOne you OugnC TO feel encouraged
to never say quit as long as there is
single farmer in all this section
who needs your sympathy and
help
The ambitious young man of to-
day when casting around for avenue
to excellent distinction, is bewildered
when his eyes fall upon the glitterins
towers raised to such lofty heights
by human genius and heroic effort.
If his heart burn for military renown
he shudders when he sees to what
Ngiddy and stupendous heights
great warriors have mounted, and
fixed high up their eternal fame.
How dare he even hope to excel
Alexander or Hannibal or Napoleon
or Washington. 1t is almost sacri-
lege to even dream of outstripping
either of these great chieftains. And
if he look upon the grand array Of
great statesmen, learned jurists, emil
nent scholars and scientists, world
renowned painters and sculptors,
musicians, divines, great surgeons
and physicians he is awed into silent
wonder at their almost super-human
excellence. How in the world can
he ever think to soar to sublimer
heights than Milton or Pollock or
Shakespeare or Scott or Byron? To
these great ones in almost every
habitation of man and in every cline
have been erected monuments built
of marble and enduring brass that
resist the ravages of time and shall
perpetuate their fame to the remot-
est ages. Every nation under the
sun takes pride in doing homage to
her great men. But where in all
the universe of God was there ever
monument erected by people to
a single one of the farmers? Where?
There is not single one in the
world two inches long that was
built to honor a farmer as such.
Why is this? Simply because there
has never been single instance
where a man has pre-eminently dis
tinguished himself as farmer No,
sirs! Never.
The vast domain Of agricultural
pOssibilitics-a lmost boundless-
has never been explored.
1t is true that Jethro Tull, Ellana
Watson, John Johnston, David
/ Dickson and DR.. Jones have made
few tracks in this great field of re-
search, and caught a. few faint
glimpses of its immense richness
Ssonly this and nothing more"
While the naturalist has made
gigantic strides towards absolute
perfection in grouping, classifying
and naming every bug and beetle,
with every mammoth monster that
roams the forest down to the tiniest
insect that fits in the sunbeam he
is familiar-he can tell you the
nature and habit of every bird that
flies and every fish that swims and
every worm that crawls and every
huge leviathan that wallows in the
briny deep. But the farmer, poor
fellow, gropes his weary way along
the vale of shadows, having never
once fixed his eyes upon the glitter
ing pinnacles OF his far away capa-
bilities. Not one in a thousand
knows even the merest rudiments
of his caIling-dosen't even know
how to curry cow and very likely
dosen't know that she needs it.
Where within the wide confines of
the commonwealth of North Caro-
lima is there now or has there been
single man who was or is an
acknowledged authority on agricul-
tural questions? [ defy mortal
man to name a single instance. We
can name hundreds who are justly
held as eminent authorities in almost
every other calling here in our own
State, while the patient, toil;ng far
mer with now and then feeble ray
Of borrowed light falling upon his
way, is sorely puzzled over the
very alpha of his God-given work
and while he is slowly spelling out
his first lessons-bla, bic, bli, bio,
blu, blythe favored of other voca
tions have passed away beyond the
big bulldog in the spelling book,
easily and glibly calling out incom-
patability, unintelligibility, incom-
prehensibility, and sure enough it
is incomprehensible jargon to the
bla, BILE, bli, bio fellows.
In the name of the high heavens